The Rain Poured
by The Enchanted Cheesy Soybean
Summary: Depressed!Harry fic. The rain pours, he is numb to it. She is dead, and it was all his fault. He was made to kill Voldemort, and he did. But..she wasn't supposed to die..it was supposed to be him. GinnyHarry


Ok, so I got this really sad song on Itunes and I was so sad I had to write something depressing, so here it is.

Disclaimer: Depressed!Harry does not belong to me, neither does Ginny or Ron or Hermione or Voldemort.

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The rain poured. Soaking through his clothes and chilling him to the marrow and core. It dripped from his hair, his forehead, mixing with his tears. He became numb. The coldness numbed him. It was the weather, the chillingly biting weather that nipped and gnawed at his skin unclothed, it was the events, what he had gone through, what he had seen. His soul was ebbing away, matching the sobs he hadn't noticed. Matching the heartbeat that shouldn't be his. The heartbeat…that should have been…_hers_…

- - -

Her laugh rippled through the air, he soaked it up, smiling at her smile. Her bright, contagious smile. She was so beautiful. So beautiful, yet he couldn't see it. Her lips were so tempting, yet he didn't see it. Her eyes were so bright, he may have realized. But he never thought…never grasped that…

He loved her…

He never knew love, never experienced it. Never felt it. He didn't know how it felt…that day, he felt warm, lightheaded. He checked in with Madame Pomphrey and was directed to stay for the day, just in case. Though he knew he wasn't sick. No, it was different. It warmed him to his toes, his fingers, to his very soul. It made his heart feel heavy in his chest to the point where he had to think to breathe.

This was different…

Consulting his friends would do more harm then good, and besides, he knew what it was…it the back of his mind he knew. It was like a stray thought, fluttering out of his reach right when he got close to figuring it out. But he knew. He always knew and he didn't do anything. When he could…when she needed some small little thing done…made a subtle hint that he pretended not to notice…he ignored it.

Like it was a thing to be ignored…

He didn't grasp it, didn't heed it. They only had a year. Only a year, yet he did nothing. They all acted as they always did, Ron and Hermione flirting with their constant bickering, Fred and George pulling pranks at the burrow during Christmas, Molly making large meals and being the lovely woman she always was. And he was the same…the exact same, worrying about Voldemort and living in dread of what was to be done, conscious of the time wearing away.

What was thing annoying thing to be heeded anyway?

Why waste thoughts on some petty whim?

Was it a whim…he didn't know. It was what he told himself to keep putting it off, to keep ignoring it as if it was trivial. After all, defeating Voldemort was top priority. It was what his life purpose was from the start.

From the very start of his Wizarding experience that's what he has known, he was the one that was to save the world. The one to save them all. He was their savior.

And he did save them…

But…not how he wanted. Not how it should have been.

He was supposed to die after he killed Voldemort. He hadn't realized it until the final battle but…it was what he thought all along. It was his plan. He knew he couldn't live with himself if he lived with the blood on his hands. Blood that would never wash off, it would always be there. No matter how much he washed.

But it wasn't Voldemort's blood on his hands now…

It was hers.

- - -

He lifted his hands shakily, it wasn't rain pooling in them, it was blood. His hands shook so badly it all poured from his hands, it wouldn't stop…wouldn't stop, her blood kept running from his hands, the hands that were responsible…

- - -

Voldemort leered, widening his eyes insanely as he lifted his wand, Harry's face reflecting in his crazed eyes.

"Finally, Potter." He wheezed, teetering slightly from a wound, "Finally it is time…for you to die."

Harry gripped his side, trying to stop the blood from flowing, he was getting lightheaded, Voldemort blurred before his eyes before green erupted.

Instinctively he covered his head with his forearm, which became immediately heavy.

Was he dead?

No…he gulped in a few breathes and removed whatever was on top of him.

Ginny…

Her eyes were wide, her tears still wet on her cheeks. The light was gone…the light in her eyes.

Inside, he was screaming, outside…he was doing what he always was supposed to.

Grabbing Ginny's wand from her pocket, Harry screamed the one curse he knew best at Voldemort's back.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The green was blinding, with Harry's emotional pain the curse was ten times as strong, killing at least three nearby Death Eaters.

Harry collapsed, sobbing, choking, rocking Ginny back and forth.

His mind was slipping…he was loosing blood fast.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry?"

It was Ron.

"Harry we…we need to get you both to the hospital wing."

He shook his head, over and over and over, "No Ron…no…no…she's dead…she's dead….s-she's…d-dead…Don't take m-me…I don't want to…I d-don't…"

Ron sobbed, "Harry! C-c'mon mate…you're losing blood, we need to get you-"

"NO!"

- - -

"This heartbeat should be yours…this heart was always yours…Gin…"

- - -

_Sixty years later…_

Harry James Potter. Age eighty-nine. Single male. Cause of death- mental distress. Family- none.

- - -

Oh simple thing where have you gone?  
I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.  
So tell me when you're gonna let me in,  
I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.

And if you have a minute why don't we go.  
Talk about it, somewhere only we know?  
This could be the end of everything,  
So why don't we go  
Somewhere only we know?

Somewhere only we know...

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So...there you have it. Harry ends up with his Ginny in the end.


End file.
